My name is innocence. 

I have been killed. 

I am trying to rise from the dead

and haunt anyone willing to accept a dead thing. 

Wounded at first,  curious

Then slowly strangled until the last precious bit was gone. 

How could one know? 

That this seemingly painless journey could lead to this? 

Death. 

The thing trying to creep back into your mind

but cannot succeed because once it's gone

knows the door is shut and locked forever. 

One who tries even can never open the door

Past the chain that holds it shut. 

My name is innocence. 

And smaller and smaller I get. 

Younger and younger I have left the souls of the precious ones

Their minds infected very and full of desiese.

Old ones know they can not return to me are ranked with sorrow. 

People don't know how much they need me

Until they let me go

And I run

Not because I want to. 

But because I have to. 

My name is innocence. 

And I am dead.